


The Seer and the Werewolf

by nickahontas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Goblins, Goblins are Badasses, Horcrux Hunting, Probably a gen fic, Self-Insert, marauder era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27033823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickahontas/pseuds/nickahontas
Summary: A self-insert pretends to be a seer and uses her knowledge to defeat Voldemort. She makes friends with a werewolf along the way.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 100





	The Seer and the Werewolf

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is going to be a short (probably gen) fic. Honestly, I never meant to write or post it. I've just been adding and adding scenes to it over the past few months when inspiration struck. Earlier today I realized I actually had a mostly finished fic with a plot, so why not post it?
> 
> Write a comment and tell me what you think!

Lexi Martin died just after three am on the sixth of June 2026. 

Six seconds and sixty-six years before, a baby girl is born. Her mother, a young teenager under the influence of several painkillers, quite likes that her daughter was born during the witching hour. The baby’s father was a backpacking Frenchman called Jacques le Fay, she says, and his daughter will be named Morgana le Faye. She thinks it all quite clever. 

The hospital staff does not. Nor will her daughter. 

* * *

Morgana ‘It’s Just Ana’ le Faye grows into a quiet girl. She spends most of her time reading and painting in her grandfather’s mechanic shop. When she’s seven, her granddad tells her that her mother ran off the previous night “ _to be an American hippy, the stupid bint. I don’t know where I went so wrong with her_ ”. Ana simply shrugs and asks Granddad to pass the orange juice. She’s a bit too quiet for his tastes, sees a bit more than any child should, but she’s the complete opposite of her mother. He can appreciate that at the very least. He just shrugs and passes the juice.

* * *

The summer she turns eleven, Ana is trying out her new watercolors when a woman knocks on the door. She’s got a stern look, a strange leather satchel in her hands, and introduces herself as Minerva McGonnagal. Ana vomits all over her shoes. 

“Did you know who I am?” She asks, after everything’s been cleaned and explained. “Have you seen me before? In a dream, perhaps?”

“Yes,” Ana lies. 

McGonnagal purses her lips together. “I am, admittedly, not the best person to explain this. I have never had the patience for the more abstract arts.” 

Granddad hums approvingly. 

“You see, Miss le Faye-“

“Ana, please. It’s not even my real name.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Never knew who the father was,” Granddad explains. “Kate- her mum, my girl- said it meant something she had a daughter in the witching hour of the sixth day of the sixth month. Thought it was a load of bollocks, myself. Katie never was the smartest girl. So she lied and said the father was a Frenchman named le Faye. Thought it was clever. Always thought she was clever, the fool.”

“Is your daughter deceased, Mr. Lyons?”

“Dunno, do I? Ran off to America years ago. Just been me and Ana.”

McGonnagal frowns. “And she never said anything about the father? Anything at all?” 

“Not a thing. Just that he was a Frenchman, but I never put much stock in that.”

Ana stares back at McGonagall curiously, wondering what she sees. Ana knows she’s more handsome than beautiful, what with her pointed chin and aristocratic nose. It’s her eyes that make her so unsettling; a glittering, piercing black that tracks every movement and contrasts with her pale hair. 

The professor takes a deep, settling breath. “It is possible that your father was, or perhaps is, a wizard. You see, Ms. Ana, I suspect you may have the Sight, a rare ability to see the future. Such...gifts are usually passed down in the old families. But one’s parentage does not determine one’s potential. Only you are responsible for your future.”

“Quite right, Professor.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lyons. With that in mind, I must ask that you keep your abilities secret until you meet with the Headmaster. It can be dangerous. Hogwarts is the safest place in all of magical Britain, but people will do heinous things for knowledge.”

“Alright,” Ana agrees. 

“Very well. We shall meet at ten o’clock on Monday morning. I will take you both shopping with another student and her family. Any money you bring can be exchanged at the wizarding bank, but we do have funds set aside for muggleborn students if they are needed. I’ll leave you with a leaflet with tuition and living costs. It also provides the address of where we will meet.”

“Very well. We’ll see you on Monday, Professor.”

She nods and leaves, the door closing softly behind her. 

“Well fuck,” Ana says, staring at the door. 

“Well fuck,” Granddad says, staring at his granddaughter. 

* * *

They meet at a small tube station in Central London, where Professor McGonnagal waits with a red-headed girl and her blonde mother. 

“Jesus Christ,” Ana swears. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Granddad looks down at her with a raised brow. The blonde woman frowns disapprovingly. Professor McGonnagal frowns for an entirely different reason. 

“Ana, this is Lily Evans,” she says. 

Ana throws up all over her professor’s shoes again. 

* * *

Granddad quite likes the goblins. Even worse, they seem to like him back. They share war stories and compare blacksmithing to a modern muggle armory. Professor McGonnagal is stricken and almost fearful throughout it all and suggests they stick together for the rest of the day. She eyes Mr. Lyons warily, murmuring something about Slytherins under her breath. 

Ana and Lily get their wands from a creepy old man. Lily takes only twenty minutes to find a willow wood wand that emits golden sparks when she waves it. Ana tries so many wands that the others go get an ice cream. Even Granddad pops into the potions shop next door. Finally, after nearly an hour, Ollivander pulls out a dusty box from the very back. 

“Twelve and one quarter inches,” he says. “Rather long for such a short witch, but no matter. It’s the core that we’re interested in. Go on. Give it a swish.”

The wand feels comfortingly cold in her hand. She swishes and silver sparks erupt in a graceful arc. 

Ollivander sighs. “Yew wood and thestral hair. This would have gone much quicker if you’d just told me you’ve died.”

* * *

Ana cries when she sees the Express. Once, it was the only thing she ever wanted to see. Now her joy is overtaken by a heavy dread that sloshes in her stomach. She is annoyed as well. The students are all so young and loud and happy, completely ignorant of the realities of the world. Grandad gives her a commiserating grin and sees her off.

She picks a compartment with the most unassuming kid she can find. She glares at him, daring him to speak, and settles in with her sketchpad. She loses herself in the rhythmic scratch of pencil on paper, gives herself over to memories and dreams. Children enter but she pays them no attention. It isn’t until the train moves that she is torn away. 

“Ana!” A cheerful voice calls. 

Ana sighs heavily The boy across from her, the first one, raises his brows. 

“Sev! Come here! I found Ana!” 

Ana braces herself. Sure enough, an adorable ginger girl pulls a grumpy hook-nosed boy into the compartment. 

“Hi, Ana! How was the rest of your summer?!” Lily asks, green eyes sparkling. 

“Quiet.”

One of the other boys snorts. 

“I’m so glad I found you! The older kids wouldn’t let us join and I was scared to ask anyone else. Oh, are you drawing something? May I see? The flowers you painted for us were beautiful. Mum put up in the entryway.” 

“Oh,” Ana says, surprised. She hadn’t thought Mrs. Evans liked her enough for that. 

“Yeah. So who are your new friends? This is Severus, the boy I told you about. We’ve been best mates since he saw me do magic in the play park. My name is Lily Evans. We’re from Cokeworth.”

Severus grimaces and mutters a greeting.

“I’m James Potter,” one boy declares. “From Godric’s Hollow.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Ana cries, slamming her sketchpad closed. 

They all turn to stare at her. 

“I, uh, I just remembered I forgot something.”

“Fuck,” another boy says, nodding his head wisely. “I’m Sirius Black. Proud Londoner.”

“I’m Remus Lupin,” the first boy says nervously. “Wales.”

An awkward round of nods and handshakes are exchanged. Ana sinks back into her seat, content to pass the ride staring out the window in broody silence. Unfortunately, the others are not so inclined.

“What’s your name, then?” James Potter asks with an encouraging grin. It’s obviously something he’s copied from his mother or father. 

“Ana.”

“Where are you from Ana?” Sirius asks. “There’s no need to be shy. None of us have any friends yet, except those two.”

“Oi!” James protests. “I thought we were mates.”

“Yeah, alright. What about you, Remus? Want to be our mate?” 

“Er-“

“Great! Best of mates and we’re not even out of London proper yet.”

 _May the Lord have mercy on my soul_ , Ana thinks. She glances at Snape, hoping for solidarity, to find that he is far too nervous to look away from his feet. Ana fights back another groan. She never wanted children and now she’s stuck living with them for seven years. 

“So?” Sirius hedges. “Where are you from?”

“Between Oxford and Swindon.”

“Are you muggleborn? I’ve never met a muggleborn,” he says thoughtfully. 

“Half, at least,” she explains. “We never knew who my father was. McGonnagal thinks he was probably a wizard, but I don’t care, not really. My granddad’s the best father I could ask for.”

James frowns. “What’s your last name?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s not real.”

“How can your name not be real?” Severus asks, too confused to be bashful. 

Ana sighs again. She has a feeling she’ll be doing that a lot over the next decade or so. 

A decade. A fucking decade living with snot-nosed brats. 

“It’s stupid,” she begins. “Mum was a muggle, right? Well she thought my birthday was witchy so she gave me the witchiest name she knew. And with my luck, turned out it was a famous witch.”

“Who?” All four boys demand. 

“Morgana le Fay.”

“No!” They all cry. 

“Yep.”

“Merlin’s beard!” Sirius cries. 

“It’s kind of perfect in a way,” James says, hazel eyes glazing over. “It’s like the longest prank ever pulled.”

Suddenly, the compartment door slams open. A pudgy blonde boy stands wincing and twisting his trunk handle. Ana contemplates throwing herself out the train. 

“Can I join you?” He squeaks. “Everywhere else is full.”

“Sure thing, mate,” James says. “We’re just introducing ourselves.”

“Oh! I’m Peter Pettigrew!” 

Ana slams her head against the window. 

* * *

Ana cries again when she sees Hogwarts for the first time. Sirius Black is the only one who sees, but he doesn’t seem to know what to do so he doesn’t say anything about it. He makes sure to stick close to her after that. Though very sweet, it makes it difficult to hide her emotions. She can feel heart beating in her teeth and it’s almost like someone is playing around in her intestines. 

Ana studies the Great Hall as her yearmates are sorted. It’s exactly like she imagined it could be, only more. The enchanted ceiling is the single most astoundingly beautiful thing she’s seen in her thirty combined years on earth. Sirius is sent to Gryffindor ( _and then Azkaban_ , she thinks morosely.). Lily does as well. Everything is the same, except for her. She doesn’t understand it. None of it makes sense.

She’s so deep in her thoughts, she hardly notices Remus Lupin squeeze her arm. She reverts her attention just as a tall boy takes the stool. He looks as though he might tremble himself right off and onto the floor. 

“Laarberch,” Remus whispers. “You’re next, I think.”

She tries to give him an appreciate smile, but it only makes her look constipated. He grimaces in understanding. 

Laarberch scampers off to the Ravenclaw table. McGonnagal takes in an almost imperceptible breath before calling out, “Le Fay, Morgana.”

A collective gasp echoes across the room. Everyone swivels around to stare at the group of unassuming first years, even the professors. Someone in their crowd that sounds remarkably like James Potter says, “Bloody hell! She wasn’t lying!”

Remus, brave and kind Remus, gives her a little push. The short path to the stool seems to take an eternity. She’s fantasized about this. She’s fantasized about all of it. It’s all too good to be true. Lexi Martin hadn’t been a bad person, but she hadn’t been a philanthropist or a martyr. There’s a catch to all this. There’s a reason she’s been put here and it probably isn’t a good one. None of it makes sense. 

Ana takes a deep breath, sits down, and pulls the Hat down onto her head. 

Her first thought is that it is itchy. Her second thought it is that Godric Gryffindor either had a very large head or she is much smaller than she realizes. 

“The latter, I think,” the Hat says. 

She jumps despite expecting the disembodied voice. 

“Hmm. How very interesting. I’ve only got two like you before. An unsettling pair of twins in 1477. Marvelous students, of course, but incredibly strange. They hardly spoke to anyone other than each other. I’m a talking hat and I thought they were unnatural. I think the modern term would be weirdos.”

“Uhm.”

“Yes, yes, but not as weird as all this.” He shuffles himself lower, scratching at her eyebrows. “They certainly didn’t read the past. Or is it future? Weird, indeed, but no, dear girl, not weird enough for Ravenclaw. You don’t seek knowledge for the sake of knowledge. You seek it for your own gain. Oh yes, oh yes. You’re a Slytherin if I’ve ever met one. No doubt about that. But that is not where you’ll be sorted if I have any say it.”

He laughs as though he’s made the joke of the century. She doesn’t like how he hears her thoughts before she can articulate them. She certainly doesn’t appreciate how he brushes them aside like bothersome flies. 

“What else did you expect from a talking hat? Not very bright, are you? No, definitely not a Ravenclaw. I’ll give you two options, Morgana le Fay. You can either go to Gryffindor and learn to be brave or go to Hufflepuff and learn to be loyal and kind. Which will it be?”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m a hat. We do not defecate.”

“Just get it over with. My life is already a fucking train wreck. Might as well see how spectacularly it can crash.”

“There’s the spirit! BETTER BE GRYFFINDOR!” 

A total of three people applaud. Ana is not one of them. Nor is Professor McGonnagal. 

* * *

Ana and Remus are pulled aside after their very first class. McGonnagal hands them a piece of parchment with directions and the headmaster’s breakfast preferences. It takes them a good half hour to find the correct stone gargoyle- there quite in few in Hogwarts-, scrambled as their brains are. Transfiguration requires a lot of physics for a subject that defies them. 

“Chocolate chip waffles,” Remus says. 

The gargoyle points to a bench across the hall. Neither of them obey. They stay to examine the stone guardian instead. 

“You’d think he’d have a secretary.” Remus says. 

“Yeah, but this is much more intimidating.”

The gargoyle preens. 

“Do you have a name?” Ana asks. 

It doesn’t reply. 

“Can it speak?” Remus wonders. 

“Yes,” it says, in a hoarse, rasping tone. 

“Sweet. So do you have a name?” Ana asks.

It doesn’t answer. 

“Do you want a name?” She wonders. 

It cocks its head, but remains silent. 

“Well. I would offer to name you, but I’m afraid naming abilities are genetic. I’d probably name you something ridiculous like Satan or Beelzebub or-“

“Again,” it demands. 

“What? Beelzebub?”

It nods. 

“You want to be named Beelzebub?” Remus clarifies. 

It nods again. 

Remus looks from her to the gargoyle, furrows his brow, opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it and shakes his head. 

“Do you know why we’re here?” He asks instead. 

“Our secrets,” Ana says. 

Remus freezes. Every muscle in his body locks and bulges. 

“I don’t have a secret,” he lies. 

“I think he wants us to tell each other our secrets.”

“I don’t have a secret.”

“I don’t know if I want to. You’re eleven.”

“I don’t have a-“

“He’ll see the boy first,” Beelzebub announces. 

Ana passes the time with her new friend. It’s a mostly one sided conversation. He’ll tap his claws or twitch his wings or incline his head. He reminds her of Granddad. She’s just asked if she can come by and sketch him when Remus appears. His sandy hair is almost as messy as James Potter’s. 

“He’s ready for you,” he murmurs. 

Ana frowns, but she doesn’t press. He obviously isn’t comfortable with her knowing anything. 

She finds Dumbledore waiting for her her behind his desk. He wears paisley robes and an infectious smile. Ana likes him well enough, she just doesn’t know if she trusts him. Something about him makes her antsy. He could do anything and get away with it. He could kill her. He could lock her away. He could obliviate her to the point of madness. Nobody could do anything about it. They’d probably even accept his reasoning if he bothered to give any. 

She sits in the plush chair across from him and tries her best to avoid eye contact. It’s easy enough, what with how whimsical his office is. Several portraits wave down at her cheerily. She can’t tell which of the dour ones is Phinneas Nigellus Black. 

“Good afternoon, Ana. How are you finding Hogwarts?”

“It’s better than I ever imagined,” she says honestly. 

“Wonderful! I’m very glad you like it. How is Gryffindor treating you?”

“I don’t like it,” she admits. 

His bushy brows raise. “Really? Why is that?”

“Well, I’ve always like cool tones. Red and gold are very warm colors.”

“Ah. The tower is very red, isn’t it?”

“It’s better than a bunch of yellow, I guess.“

“Is that the only reason you dislike Gryffindor? Not to say the coloring isn’t a legitimate reason to an artist like yourself.”

She shrugs. ”The Hat said I belong in Slytherin, but he’d only put me in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.”

“Not Ravenclaw?”

“He said I’m not very bright.”

Dumbledore’s eyes gleam with something. Anger? Amusement? She looks away before she can work it out or he can try anything funny. 

“That was very rude of him,” he says. 

“Granddad always says it’s best to face hard truths.”

“Hm. Your grandfather sounds very wise.”

Ana lets her lips pull up in a smirk. “The goblins thought so.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore agrees with no small amount of amusement. “Professor McGonnagal had quite a lot to say about your grandfather.” 

“And about me, I suspect. It’s why you called us here. Our secrets.”

His white beard sways the slightest bit as he presses his mouth into a thin line. When she dares to let her gaze venture higher, she is taken aback by the sheer sorrow in his face. 

“Yes, Ana. I’m afraid you’ve been given a great and terrible burden in a trying time. You see-“

While it would be amusing to watch him struggle to explain the intricacies of a civil war to an eleven year old, her impatience wins out over her pettiness. There’s a whole castle full of magic waiting outside. 

“You mean Tom Riddle.”

Dumbledore freezes. Even the portraits seem to hold their breath. 

“Child,” he rasps, leaning forward in his seat. She immediately drops her gaze down to her swinging Doc Martens. _Resilient_ , Granddad had said, _good for a knife fight or an afternoon stroll. Can't be too bad against magic._

“Child, what have you seen?”

“Everything.”

“What do-“

“I saw them all die. All of my housemates. I watched you kill them and I watched them kill you.”

One of the portraits gasps. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Dumbledore fall back in his seat with his hands limp. A rustling of feathers draws her attention. A magnificent bird with red and gold plumage perches on the headmaster’s chair. He coos softly, urging his companion out of his morose thoughts. 

“I am very sorry that you have had to see such awful things, Morgana.”

For some reason, she finds that she doesn’t mind him saying her name. It isn’t mocking or amused. He just says it as he would anyone else’s name. 

“It’s okay. I don’t know if I believe in everything my mum did, but I think I’ve seen it all for a reason.”

“Awful things happen to people that meddle with time, my dear.”

“But it isn’t time, is it?” She points out. “Just visions and dreams.”

He looks out the window as he mulls her words over. It’s a beautiful summer day. She’d very much rather be practicing defensive spells out in one of the ivy-covered courtyards. 

“No,” he finally concedes. “No, I suppose it is not.”

She waits politely for him to elaborate or dismiss her, but he never does. He only stares out the window with a melancholy expression. 

“You are so young, Morgana,” he murmurs. “I think we can put this off a bit longer, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she says wholeheartedly. 

She needs more time. There’s so much to learn and do and she can’t accomplish it all if she's stuck spending all her time cooped up in this fantastical tower with a quirky old man. She rushes to her feet, digging in her bag for a new leather sketchpad. It was expensive, but with the right charms it will be invaluable. Dumbledore accepts it with a bemused expression. 

“I like to draw what I see,” she says. “Helps keep it all from jumbling up. There were diaries in Diagon Alley with privacy spells. I figured you’d be the best man for the job.”

Dumbledore chuckles. “Of course, Morgana. Of course. There is no doubt that you would have done well under Professor Slughorn. I’ll have it back to you tomorrow.”

She nods, thanks him, and makes it to the door before he calls out her name again. She pauses with her hand on the knob. 

“Do you know Mr. Lupin’s secret?”

Ana furrows her brows. “What secret, sir?”

“Slytherin, indeed. Go and enjoy the sunlight, child. It is a beautiful day.”

* * *

Ana is surprised at how much she enjoys her first few years at Hogwarts. Magic is a beautiful, wondrous thing. Charms and potions are as easy as breathing. Transfiguration is a bit too stiff to inspire any joy, but it’s just as useful in a fight as any charm. Yet despite her diligence and dedication to learning, her grades are less than subpar. She doesn’t have the patience to do homework that she already understands or try to pretend to write essays like a preteen. Instead, she spends her time painting and drawing throughout the grounds or dueling against dummies in the Room of Requirement. 

Lily disapproves of course. At first, she is disappointed that Ana isn’t the friend she wanted, but the other girls fill the void soon enough. Ana, for her part, remains a loner. It suits her just fine. When she does crave contact, she’ll hunt down Severus in the library or sit with Remus in the common room. Even James and Sirius aren’t too bad when they’re not together either. Peter, however, she doesn’t spare a second thought. 

And so, at the beginning of her fifth year, when she sends a school owl off into the night, she’s almost sad to see it all go.

**Author's Note:**

> Who do you think the owl was for?


End file.
